


Fifty Shades of Blue

by Shelk



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Educational Fanfiction Challenge, Erotica, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, Re-Education, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sex Education, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shelk/pseuds/Shelk
Summary: "We accept the love we think we deserve."Education kink ranting &  Femdom love story;using original novels as a challenge for a realistic relationship in boundaries of set storyline. A fashion student starting relationship with a millionaire.First draft. OC.





	1. Kink education corner.

**1.Kink education corner.**

**BDSM** is a term, community and lifestyle preference created from first four letters of historically acknowledged sexual derivations. (Bondage Dominance Sadism Masochism.)  
**Vanilla** is a term for directly opposite lifestyle, complete lack of interest in any kinky fuckery.  
Neither one of the terms implies that one group has and the other group does not have a special skill set, specific preference in sexual positions or specific personality of people involved. The easiest way to understand it, is by thinking that some people enjoy being in certain structured mindsets during their interactions and others do not.

**2.Kink education corner.**

**To have sex alt. To make love** , to have lovely dovely intercourse with preferably mutual exchange of orgasms.  
**To play** , a frequently used term, for adding BDSM elements to some or few elements of interaction.  
**To fuck** , this is not used in official BDSM vocabulary.*Pun intended.

**3.Kink education corner.**

**The SSC dogma**  
"SAFE SANE CONSENSUAL"  
"And now in group, kids."  
"Safe. Sane. Consensual."  
"Good..."  
You do not **touch** another human being without two of you being safe, sane and consensual.  
**Safe:** attempts should be made to prevent, stop and identify risks for physical health and mental wellbeing.  
**Sane:** activities should be undertaken in a sane and sensible frame of mind.  
**Consensual:** All activities should involve full consent of all parties involved. Given consent is not legal consent, and cannot be phrased och officiated as legal document. It is important to remember that every form of BDSM interaction with a minor is a legal crime, due to them being unable to give their full consent.

**4.Kink education corner.**

**Limits.**  
**Imagine being a bird; with each of the feathers in your tail a signal. For some, they are sign of beauty for others they are warning signs. The feathers are your limits.** Knowing yourself is to know your limits; to know what you are turned on by, to know what you want, how you want it and in what conditions you want it in.  
To play with someone without limits is to put oneself in great danger in company of a moron that you simply cannot trust.  
No limits, no play.  
Period.

  
**Example of a reasonable limit:** Being cold, during sex or bondage. Put some god damn socks on me.

 **Another example of a limit:** It does not do anything for me, sexually or mentally, to consume defecation. I would refuse and be very bored if we do that.

 **Third example of a limit:** As a dominant; I am feeling frustrated with how you, my submissive have been requesting something that I cannot provide to you, safely. I have no experience with breathplay. I understand that you are excited about going through the breathplay workshop experience with me; but that is next Friday. There for; no, I do not want to harm you or myself by trying to strangle you, now.

 **Very important example of a limit:** As a sadist; I enjoy fantasies involving high levels of trust and pain. I must end this relationship, because you have broken my limits. I view our communication as continuously bad. I have learned that during playtime you have been pushing through your own limits, and lied to me about where they were in the beginning of our relationship. You did not correct me, when I asked for direction. You went to your friends and claimed that you have been harmed and pushed. That is not true. I cannot trust you. I take full responsibility that we had a relationship, and that I performed act A and act B on you; but I am not a tool for you to self harm with.

**5\. Kink education corner.**

**How to use words.**

BDSM has a lot of terminology; …Sir, Master, Dom, Domme, Sub, Slave, Daddy, Lord, Babygirl….

As someone unexperienced and new, one of the common mistakes is to address someone you assume is a dominant with a title that you have heard their partner using when referring to them. That is okay with some people; and that seems to be a lot more common online then in reality; but that can turn into a very unpleasant, cringy situation.

People can get hurt and humiliated from you assuming in which positions they belong. Some can feel violated, similar to discomfort you would feel, if someone at your workplace suddenly would use that pet name, that your lover used or perhaps pet name, that your grandma used to address you as a child.  
And even, when you have been told dynamics between people you are addressing, that is not your place to address them by their titles. To be known as a Sir, in a community, and then have everyone address you as such; is a fanfiction myth, not even people who are celebrity status known experience that on a day to day basis.

There are situations, where only titles are used.

For example; Dominatrix/ Dominator sessions, where your fantasy is fulfilled; those, you pay for.

Another example are formal dinners where you wouldn't be invited as unexperienced individual. To enter such a thing, you need to know people who are already invited or submit a questionnaire and go through interviews; individually and as a couple. It is normally a weekend long holidays, that people plan for years in advance.  
To meet someone who presents themselves as Sir X or Slave X is more common during informational workshops or private meet and greet lunches. Those are for meeting people and learning more about the lifestyle. In that setting; you can use the title as a sign of respect; like how you would address a teacher or a mentor.  
In all other cases, use their actual names.

**6\. Kink education corner.**

**Words: Part 2.**

**Heterosexual:** Attraction to the other gender then your own.  
**Homosexual:** Attraction to your own gender.  
**Bisexuality:** Attraction to the male or female gender.  
**Polysexuality:** Attraction to all and any genders, including trans people and genderfluid people.  
**Asexual/Aromantic:** A scale of lack of sexual or romantic attraction to any gender.

 **Unicorn:** A single, sex positive bisexual or polysexual person, preferably aromantic one that does not mind entering a new emotional and sexual relationship with one or more people.

 **Unicorn hunters** : The term is born out of stereotype of heterosexual couple that can not understand that sex with a third person is not going to save a bad relationship. They then, approach a poly sexual person with a list of requirements, assuming just because they have vaginas and dicks, they are guaranteed this intense emotional and sexual relationship that simply “completes” them, as people and a couple.  
The dark side of this stereotype is how unicorn is treated after the act of sex is done. Often; unicorn is discarded as a disgraced horse or worse; with references of how couple, that is core of the relationship is disagreeing on their feelings and are choosing to end the relationship.  
Effectively making the unicorn feel like a dirty sex tool.  
It is quite amazing how often this happens in the real world. According to statistics, close to zero; polysexual trios and quartets that are remaining in loving and healthy relationships started off in this manner. Regardless of what vanilla television implies.

 

**7.Kink education corner**

**Words: Part 3**

**Main directions of BDSM; the basics.**  
**Dom** = Dominant.  
**Sub** = Submissive.  
**Switch** = Both a dominant and a submissive.

 **Kinky Unicorn hunters** : Where, a polysexual or bisexual person is a topic of affection of unicorn hunting couples; a kinky unicorn hunter is often searching for **ultra-unicorn** ; someone who is single, sex positive, polysexual or bisexual and on top of that a switch who is wishing to be in an emotional and BDSM sexual relationship with one or multiple people from an established couple.

***Sigh***

Being a unicorn hunter is very creepy and can happen to good people out of ignorance.

Be aware and do not become a unicorn hunter.

You can fall into that logical simplistic trap of assumed ideas and  become unicorn hunting couple, or be a single hunter searching for your prey.

 

Kinky people, are many in number; something simple like hair pulling, makes one kinky.BDSM have existed longer then democracy.

But kinky peoople are not members of a _Harem of Wonders_ ,existing to to fullfill your fantasies. We do have clowns; but its not a circus for your entertaiment.

Treat people, as people. Its not very hard.

 

**8\. Kink education corner**

**Words: Part 4**

You are **fresh** and ready; you know **who you are** and **who you are attracted to**.  
You done your gender and kink reading. You can name and address seventeen genders.  
You are ready to enter the scene. You **know** what turns you on.  
You are **ready** ; like a butterfly opening the wings in spring.

  
You are Heterosexual Daddy Master Dominant Omnivore with Sadistic flare looking for Hetroflexible Babygirl Pet Slave and you are looking for this hot blond chick with great ass, that you will put in a cage back at home but truly, you will be fine with a blowjob for tonight. All you want to do is to find the courage to approach one person. **You can do this**.  
Or.  
You are Demisexual Hetroflexible Ropebunny Babygirl Pet Service Slave and you build this whole persona of kitten in a cute maid uniform who is all roped up in bondage and submissive to this ideal demi god Sir you hope to find there and get the taste of your great new identity.You are ready for adventure you have the condoms, oh, the fucking you will get. All you want to do is to find the courage and approach one person. **You can do this.**

 **Stop.**  
**Stop.**  
**Stop.**  
**STOP…………………………… NO!**

**9.Kink education corner**

**Relationships**  
BDSM is not going to spice up or save a bad relationship.  
BDSM is built entirely on concept of active, interactive, updated communication between people involved in the relationship.  
If you are a vanilla couple wishing to explore BDSM; do that, explore that part of you; do not treat this lifestyle like a pinch of paprika on your roast.  
If you are actively hiding things from or lying to your partner; you cannot start with BDSM until all things are on the table.  
If you are telling half-truths, you will just be putting yourself in danger.  
If you are carrying regrets, feel upset by some behaviours of your partner or given up on communication about your life and sex life; BDSM is not going to help you, it will harm you.

BDSM is hard work, honesty, trust, transparency, communication, patience, bravery and skills.  
BDSM can be actively therapeutic. But it is not therapy.

Know your limits. Know your damage. Know yourself.  
Otherwise, you are not ready for this.

 

**10\. Kink education corner**

**Words: Part 5**

**This is where things went wrong.**

**Meat market:** A fantasy place, that only exists in porn and a few books and virtual communities; where people meet for fucking. Sometimes with, sometimes without BDSM elements. Where all women are submissive and strip and kneel at entrance. Where all men are dominant and keep their clothes on.  
**A market:** A real place where BDSM people meet and interview each other for potential play time or a relationship.  
**A BDSM party:** A real place that welcomes newbies, that can include performance with public sexual elements like a scene of spanking between playing partners. Or flogging. Or a dom releasing someone from a cockcage and allowing them to cum first time in maybe months.  
That is not porn. You are not allowed to masturbate.  
You are not allowed to touch people who are in the middle of the scene.  
You are not allowed to address them or comment on the scene.  
Nobody cares if you found the girl to be hot, or the guy having a great dick.  
When you are watching a scene, you are respecting the bubble. The bubble is the mindset and the mood the people set; in the scene, that you can enjoy by standing or sitting where other people are, normally several steps away, from the play action.  
Do sit down on the floor. Do shut up. Shut your phone off. Do not talk with your friends. Do not laugh.  
Read the rules, you been given at the entrance. I repeat, read the rules.  
You are there, to learn. To meet people. To enjoy erotica and expand your horizons.  
To interact in conversation about kink and the lifestyle; there are often set informational meetings that go in depth on what elements have been used in the scene.

BDSM parties are not meat markets; you have higher chances getting one-night stand in vanilla setting then you do in the BDSM setting. You are not going to play right away.

Why?

Because BDSM involves **dangerous elements** ; like rope, plastic, water, breath control and don’t get me started on medical play.

Long term lifestyle professionals died and killed, by accidents because their skill of reading their partner wasn’t enough to stop and save them in time.

Newbies died; because they jump into dangerous elements without any training or attempt to figure BDSM out; like it’s a pancake recipe.

So; no.

  
While you are inexperienced; you should not call yourself **Heterosexual Daddy Master Dominant Hetroflexible Babygirl Pet Slave Whatever….**  
Your sexuality is your own. Wear a funny t-shirt if you want people to know straight away.  
Everything else are respected titles, that require experience and skills.  
Do not present yourself by titles, that lay in BDSM area that you wish to explore.  
You are not yet worthy of them; because it is not safe to play with you, **yet.**  
Say “ I am wishing to explore how to do this and that… ”

 

**11.Kink education corner.**

**Punishments vs. discipline**

In the 20th century discipline within BDSM have spread into styles; one of which is the training-discipline style that I will refer to as **modern BDSM** , where a dom and sub are entering a long term play dynamic that often involved different types of collars symbolising different stages of their relationship and a training of the sub is happening; on and off concrete play time.  
One of often practiced training sessions is deepthroating; that is physiologically difficult on anyone; and involves the trainee who is often the submissive one to practice until they can do it. Other examples can be size up of buttplugs or dildos, or perhaps learning the pain from a different style of a whip.  
For this line of BDSM punishments and discipline tends to mean different things for different people. Some, view punishments as physical manifestation from set mindset of discipline and power exchange. For others, there are different stages of punishments during their training.

There is also **classical BDSM** , that is often viewed as old fashioned and oppressing.  
The differences are many.  
Punishments or discipline are rarely practised to the same degree as modern BDSM.  
That mentality of training, whom you own, to your desires; does not exist.  
You are collared once and it carries meaning of a bond between people rather than stage of their relationship.  
For historical reasons; everyone starts of as a student submissive; where they are mentored by someone with more experience and learn how things are done and how things feel before they branch out into a switch or a dominant.  
This is of course oppressing for pure sadists and pure dominants; who have no desire to be in position of vulnerability and submission, and carry on fearfulness of pain into they practice.

 **If we generalise:**  
Modern BDSM focuses on the submissives training.  
Classical BDSM focuses on dominants training.

 

**12.Kink education corner.**

**Punishments vs. discipline: Discussion.**

I am a classically trained switch.  
From era, when people assumed that switches are “bad subs” who did not yet learn their place and top from the bottom.  
I fully understand the differences between modern and classical BDSM, but I am also someone who was influenced by the mindsets and ideas of my time.

For me; the need for rules and punishments is just bad copy post dominance and plastic submission. And my thoughts go to assuming that people involved are someone who are either new,insecure or unaware of their own desires, needs and wishes. Which makes me feel unsafe.

My dominance is structured around what I and my partner wishes to do; and it is primary an outlet for my personal obsession and joy I feel from being allowed to bring them pleasure through pain or pleasure through rare sensations.  
I have absolutely no desire to humiliate, structure, train,punish or push set limits of my partner.  
To dominate, is an active need I have.

I do not need permission by breakage of a rule; to spank them hot red. Neither one of us enjoys roleplay in the set scene. Lets say a maid breaking a vase, without any real acting, just to get into the mood.  We might enjoy how it feels to wear a maid uniform or how beautiful the sex might me, in a position where those stay ups show from under the fluffy skirt. But I prefer actual permission. I am content and satisfied with their consent and my desire to perform spanking on them, not my desire to spank that naughty maid.

My focus is my partner; not my fantasy.

This is my personal preference.  
From view on my submission; I just find modern BDSM scenes to be boring, too technical and emotionally draining.  
From what I have experienced; the style is more suited for someone who is openly devoted and can easily submit their attention to details and desires of their dominant, like what order the toys are laid out in and what color the ribbons are. What lipstick you are wearing. The written protocole.  
I am obsessive, but I do not have that detailed devotion of someone who naturally fall into service submission; it is a style, where the sub is preparing, hoping, assuming and trying to guess for their doms needs, before those needs are voiced. Is not a mindset that would make me happy. And on top of that, I rather enjoy washing, grooming, dressing and taking care of my partner.What belongs to me, is mine to take care of.

When I am submitting, I submit to share a mutually enjoyable experience.I appreciate a careful, obsessive and verbally expressive dom who is going through the experience with me; rather then one who is performing act of dominance or sadism on me. To play with those who have acknowledged their inner fear and worries of hurting me is important to me. It places me in position where I am choosing to trust them and give my permission; they in turn trust me back and allow themselves to perform said acts of dominance or sadism.  
This is another reason, why having multiple subs or multiple doms does not make a lot of sense; just because rarity of that connection.

That does not mean, that I cannot play with whoever.  
But it does mean, that I enjoy modern type play a lot less.

And ultimately, BDSM is about, me having fun with it and not about being allowed into a secret dungeons and wrapped up in obligations.

 

**13.Kink submission corner.**

**Submission and pleasing.**

Focus of my submission is not to please my dominant, it is to submit to them.

I do please them.  And I enjoy pleasing them.

But I please my partner by teasing their kinks or maintaining life within set disciplinary boundaries.  
Those boundaries apply to both of us and contain points like... healthy sleeping, good eating, platform of conversation during distress, honesty, trust, transparency, patience, bravery, benefit of a doubt, choosing to cuddle and watch TV instead of that meeting with toxic people,  willingness to work hard...and so on...

Micromanagement, schedules and rules do not work with our personalities.  
But there are plenty of BDSM couples, who have build a stable and tender relationship using those structures.  
Point that I am trying to drag along; is that those structures are not the only way to build a stable relationship in the lifestyle, where both parties feel taken care of.

 

**To be continued...**

 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Fifty Shades of Blue**

**Chapter 1.**

Woman walking down the corridor was the nerdy type of beauty who turned heads; blue eyes too big for her face, pale, with doll like complexion and natural delicate manners that always reminded people of nymphs or female deer. She was a literature major and rather shy in her interactions. Her step light, as she turned and skipped down the stairs into an off main building area where artist department laid out their camp. Sculptor teacher, in his famous green and pink check patterned pants shifting to blow smoke out into the window, nodding at the pretty girl as she slid into the opening of the very tall wooden door far more than a hundred years old. Greek gods carved into the wood, following her with calm gazes.

The final exams just ended for everyone and it was like the whole university breathed out a sigh of relief, that lifted cherry blossoms off the trees.

Ana, brushed a strand of dark heavy hair behind her ear, hurrying through another corridor to reach her destination a small working studio in the left wing. The views of the park in the part of the building were as always spectacular, heaps of pink pedals laid out like a carpet, covering the grass and giving the old oaks standing right outside old windows a dreamy fairytale like feel. There were a few first years, sketching in the park in roads around an object laid on a stone pedestal, where a bald female teacher in neon purple knit tunic spoke, her hands moving far more than her tongue did. There were not any signs of direction on the doors,most of the glass covered by pieces of brown paper. The first time you just walked in and found your way, hoping for a Goblin King or minotaur to hang out somewhere in the corner.

Anastasia Steel wasn't a usual tourist, but she knew a couple people there and there. The left wing ended with a door, where more students were sitting at their desks, working on construction from the sound of it, unmistakable sharp sounds of heavy duty scissors cutting through paper thin cotton, the fashion department used for the form building. She brushed her hands off on her jeans, knocking on the door to the right so hard her hand might have gotten a bruise. She squirmed, waiting.

"Open" answered followed.

Ana gripped the round door knob pushing it forward, careful as she walks, looking on the ground, stepping beside the thick rolls with fabrics leaned up against the wall. She squeezed around a stand with a sewing machine reaching central area with more space. Just to be sure, not letting go of the rod in the cast iron staircase that lead up into the catalogue of a million of tiny pins and buttons the school used.

"Hi, Liam. Is Nathan here by any chance?" Ana meowed, the heavily tattooed black man at the sewing machine shuddered. "Do me a favour, dove, make sure he isn't." The african designer mumbled, turning back to his work, running a piece of plastic or perhaps leather, through the evil chewing tool that kept clanking.

"Ana!You should have called." A young man, with long ash blond hair said surprisingly close, standing up on the second floor of the studio, bending over the rails.

"Hi" Ana mumbled, a bit surprised. Moving back as he opened the gate and climbed down the stairs to the first floor, picking up a messenger bag from behind some boxes, following her out. The clanking sound of machine just growing louder.

"I was just heading out. Something happen?"

Thankful to get out unharmed, Ana nodded, turning to cousin of her roommate. As always feeling a little jealous, the pair of them sheer image of northern beauty. Where Kate was warm and inviting, with her loud laughs and bright blue eyes. Nathan looked cool, and natural, careful with words he picked and people he met with. He was even taller than Kate was, by American standards perhaps too tall, willowish even.

To gather her thoughts, Ana cleaned her throat, reaching into her backpack.

"I need your help. Please." she begged.

They met almost three years ago, when dormitory living got too rough on Kate, a girl who plastered over her windows with posters and wearing dark shades through the winter, always so sensitive to brighter lights. Anastasia was there for similar reasons, bookish and quiet and the girls clicked right away. His department provided apartments of the campus directly attached to series of studio buildings, due to many students staying over night and day time during performance season. He didn't move to Portland for the scenery, cartoonish two storied houses with white fences, massive bushes of hortensias and thin towers with second floor patios lined up down the streets in various shade of ivory. And while he did not mind a walk down the waterfront where many musicians jammed on the streets; he wasn't about to hike up into the mountains at a five minutes notice like Kate did every other weekend. At least not the nearby hills, she enjoyed running through. The Silver Star Mountain a few miles off was impressive in her might, aquamarine blue hills with rich green bushes and snow covered peak of ancient elegantly tall volcano in the distance simply magnificent. And as impressive as the skyline was, he moved for the tools, that hid in alleys of the university, world known for advance programmes on medial fabric development, fiber by fiber creating something new out of already existing materials.

Girls moved into a separate apartment within days and he was the lucky one who got to move the couch with them. Thank god, they left the piano back in Canada.

"Is that all?" I lifted my brows, surprised by level of imagined difficulties Anastasia created from scratch in a rather obvious situation. "You failed a test and need the credits. Of course I will do this. Promise to call me tomorrow. I will drive Kate, to clinic myself." The girl shaking in relief, leaving over a large envelope and a tool, he was well familiar with, the thin dictaphone computer, Kate was so proud to use in her interviews. Her carrier of a journalist opening for whole new possibilities since they moved to America, her part time job at a local radio programme already earning her some fans.

"She will be fine." Anastasia laughed, taking a large sip of her milkshake of a coffee. "It's a stomach bug."

"When is the interview?"

"Afternoon at eight, in La su." That was surprising, he expected to drive down into the city to sit at one of steel and glass wrapped hotels, but to go down and see the park, with Chinese gardens and the tall wooden structures of the temple was something, he wouldn't mind one bit. He already knew, where such a meeting would take place, there was only one area, the tea house, a delicate structure with carved windows that people rented out, but not for business interviews to his knowledge it was mostly for fashion photography, weddings and great holidays of asian community, during Chinese New Years the whole park lighting up with red lamps and celebratory games.

"That is in the evening" he corrected her automatically, Anastasia biting on her lip and taking another sip of her drink, the heavy aroma of sugar reaching him from the distance. He tried not to frown, cleaning the taste buds with some tea, the only thing he could tolerate in the shop, even vegan cake containing corn starch.

"… questions?" He peeked into the envelope, several sheets of paper folded up revealing Kates tilting handwriting.

*I need to run, its five!* Ana suddenly realised, glancing at her watch. She hurried, throwing her phone into her handbag. "I don't know much to be honest. Thank you. Thank you so much." She blushed, pale cheeks turning peachy. "See you later, Nat." Anastasia Steel chuckled, grasping the drink and hurrying out of the fenced area outside of the café, jogging in direction of the university, leaving the blond man alone. He took another sip of the hot tea, wondering what he was going to do for three whole hours, deciding to grab some dinner and walk to his destination.

Aroma of coconut milk and fragrant rice boiled with lemongrass hit him, before he even seen the purple elephant head hanging over a wide open French doors leading into a surprisingly spartanly decorated space with tables standing so that some people sat with their backs against the wall on two long benches, privacy of their conversation secured by seats opposing them, with tall backs decorated with carved image of Ganesha twisted in elegant dance, many hands of elephant god held in a oval shape that crowned the backs of the wide seats. The floors and walls a dusty pink soft color, that made the grey wood of the tables a brutal contrast. Blinds on the windows, just sheets of bamboo plates, lowered down to create an evening feel. Similar plates of bamboo hanging across the ceiling, behind a sheet of curved glass so thin, it was practically invisible, and very hard to see even in the shine of little candles. A waterfall with white orchids hanging down from very tall, oddly shaped ceilings. Many hundreds of blooms swollen with beauty.

He inhaled the ticklish scent of chili oil, being ground from scratch in the kitchen behind the desk where a man dressed in black shirt and an apron, glanced up and left him alone to pick his meal from roads of calligraphy, soups of the day lined up beside small video screens, translating ingredients of everything and anything, that touched the food during cooking and preparation.

He knew this place well, picking the menu with spicy rice noodles under famously mouth-watering shrimps on a stick and Tom Yam soup with seasonal wild mushrooms, grabbing a glass of water and picking a seat deep in the dining room, the date hour was about to start, and soon the area outside where another server was lighting thick candles in iron cast stands would be filled with couples. The daylight giving in to evening glow.

There were a few women talking calmly in one of the boots, too far away to hear the details through the melody of flute and tropical birds. He could see a heavily pregnant lady with perhaps Mongolian descent facing in his direction. She wore an office blouse and short spiky hair. He leaned back in the corner seat, looking up at the flowers with a sigh. It was getting chilly, almost autumn now, soon the winter will arrive with knee deep snow and coldest winds rushing down the mountain side. But, first there was Samhain, and Halloween show, which was what they were preparing for already. Six individual projects to be completed by their humble group of nine sewers. Apposing his well gathered appearance, he had many struggles with keeping schedules afloat, but Liam did a great job of giving them small tasks to finish, day to day. Glancing down on his phone he sketched down, a flash of idea, inspired by the orchids. Many such sketches gathered up at the end of the week and reviewed on exhaustingly long meetings, more than once he was just left asleep, while the others argued and manically pinned down fabric late into the night hours.

He was also, voice of reason, an inside joke in the Facebook chat, that lit up his message board. He glanced down, looking through finished and approved moodboard for the show. This wasn't a Halloween inspired nonsense, with glitter, spiders and tulle, their challenge was to challenge themselves. Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare inspiration for dystopian show, industrial romance of manipulation by beautiful fairies with dark intentions something that translated well into this time and age. He scrolled through images of Instagram, liking cats for a few more minutes until the food arrived.

A message from Kate popped up with a thrilling melody, right when he sank his teeth into a perfectly steamed shrimp. He swallowed, brushing his hand off on a napkin. Glancing up, suddenly feeling watched so closely, confused goosebumps run up his arms. A quick observation revealed nothing new. The other diners were receiving their food. He blinked.

"You know…the thing…", another message buzzed.

He chuckled, he could imagine embarrassed muttering under her breath.

"The thing?" he replied.

"The sodding thing." She typed seconds later.

He smiled. "Is it the thing, where you adore and love me, oh Tiny one?"

"No! Not at all. Not thankful, not one bit! "

He laughed at the addition of a gif file with a puppy hiding under a blanket.

It wasn't often that Kate got sick, but when it happen, she grew very stubborn about smallest of things. Just like when they were kids and she had a fever she used to wear rabbit flippers, hide behind his back, and braid his hair refusing to change into anything below her standards of proper footwear.

There it was, that feeling again. He glanced up directly at the table and at the Asian lady, peacefully slurping her soup. He was indeed watched; by someone he could only describe as tired. Blank gaze staring in his direction; a pale woman sunken into a giant hoodie, not even glasses able to hide dark circles behind them. Leaning against the wall heavily, one hand buried in the red hair, shimmering like fire from the candle light. There is was. A yawn. This was an odd mixture of people, the bag standing beside future mother, from the sturdy shape of it and a metal chain attached to it, phenomenally expensive. It was probably a copy, he decided. The stranger focused now, but did not move her gaze, he was a social butterfly when the mood stoke him, but this wasn't a flirty glance or a judging flown. He felt observed. She tilted her head, ignoring her company and continued looking at him.

He started rushing through possible explanations of this behaviour. Did they know each other? A one-night stand?

He did enjoy redheads in those gothic poetry clubs where coffee and tunes of Cure fuelled the romance of well-read clever girls or boys with entertaining habits, funny humour and at least one creative hobby. But this wasn't a gaze of a lover, yet, somehow he felt like that time he been painted, eyes of an artist remembering his features. Without figuring out what else to do, he nodded. The woman, did not. A few moments later moving her eyes away and disappearing out of his sight behind the Ganesha.

Left alone with his food, he tried to focus, glancing through Kates papers and figuring out what to ask this CEO of ANGI Enterprise Holdings, Inc. With limited information provided in the notes, he googled the name E. Anguis. His own university web page popped up right away, apparently this was one of the benefactors of the university and several other businesses around town. He almost coughed out his soup, finding a picture. He glanced up back at the women, catching the profile of the talking redhead, then he looked down on his phone. Not always, one meets a millionaire at a student love nest.

Half an hour and a two Wikipedia pages later he was full and waved to get his check. Just to be looked at and ignored by the normally bouncy waiter. A tall brunette in a floor sweeping coat was standing by the counter sipping something out of a can. The pregnant woman getting out from behind the table with whom he now, knew was Anguis. They were positively leaving. He waved again and got a gesture of thumb up from this unknown woman, in her mid-thirties maybe. He wondered suddenly is that was a pair of guns he just seen under her arms. He swallowed, hard, stretching lips in a smile.

Wondering "What in the…?!"

His bill was paid, he was told after they left.

* * *

 

He arrived at Sa Lu, thankful for a moment to himself. The evening was getting cool, and the first lights were glowing. He walked quickly, crisp air feeling good against his skin. Against his warm face, a mix of feelings rising from that strange encounter. The slight anxiousness that he did feel before and wish to wear something else then slack pants with several stains from fabric paint on them disappearing into nothingness. To judge by the person, the dress code was of little if any importance at this meeting. He rolled the eyes at himself and took a few deep breaths, even if this did feel like a work interview, he was not going to let this impact results that he promised to provide.

Without really realising it, his hand was on the painted red wood of the teahouse handle, that he pushed forward, the redhead inside, glancing up from her laptop, then he stumbled over the edge of the door tripping over his own feet and falling head first on the wooden table, the laptop and the very surprised millionaire.

Triple fuck; ancient Chinese table standing strong. Then, he realised that her eyes were a mix of grey and green, of rain clouds and basil. Her chest at least a C cup, in his firm grip of his right hand.

He swore noticing blood trickling from her face, the thin metal glasses broken in half, his knee on the protesting beeping laptop. He attempted to scramble himself up, just to squirm in pain radiating from his hip, gasping loudly. Embarrassed and now, scared that it might be broken. Suddenly gentle hands around him, helping to stay still, running softly through his hair. Distant voices getting closer. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy and ready to puke, he never broke a bone in his body, what if this was it, he wouldn't walk again. Just like this. pain calming down, but reappearing every time he shifted, even a little he decided not to. Adrenaline pumping.

They got to a private hospital in a slick black car that looked like a panther, the pregnant lady, Jo, swearing like a sailor and driving like a maniac. In under an hour he was in a sterile white bed, scanned by machine on wheels and informed that they have ditched the bullet and his hip was not dislocated from the awkward fall, but the muscles were severely bruised. They pulled his files and gave him tea with herb extract so strong that the girl had to take his cup away, speaking softly, as he fallen asleep.

* * *

 

**Fifty Shades of Blue**

**Chapter 2.**

He woke up from a loud slurping sound. He must have slept for hours, sliding tongue over dry mouth. With a heavy exhale he attempted to sit. Slowly moving limbs, surprised that other than throbbing discomfort there wasn't much pain, he could even bend his knee on the hurt leg. The compressing bondage with the ice pack was removed and he glanced under the thin soft blanket to inspect the damage. His underwear was cut and a large multi-coloured bruise already shifted away from angry red, into a purple shade with an oval hotspot area by his hip that was completely black, very tender to touch. He remembered something about hematomas from yesterday, and how he needed to make sure that there were not any firmer areas with swelling, because that would need drainage done by professional. But he sure hoped that no such thing would happen, idea of being pierced by any type of needle making him nauseous on the spot.

The redhead sitting on the other bed slurped again, glancing at him and reaching out what looked to be a blueberry smoothie in a tall cup.

"Want some?" she asked, adding "Blueberries, banana, water." He accepted the drink bringing the straw up to his lips, it really was impossible not to slurp, thick plastic straw bend in a funny way. The sound so loud it echoed.

They both chuckled.

She was dressed in pyjamas and modelling a bedhead and two stitches across the bridge of the nose and now he could see the extent of deep bone exhaustion settled in shadows and bloodshot eyes. She looked to be his age, in mid to late twenties or early thirties he assumed. Remembering a number from the little research he has done.

"Twenty-seven? " he asked referring to her age, surprised to talk, the squint of grey eyes revealing that she could not see him sitting less than a meter away.

" Nh" she answered tiredly sliding back to bed, and kneading the pillow into submission, hugging it with knees and turning on her side to look at him, rolled up in a ball. That was just too cute.

He cleared his throat. "Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind."

"And you are?" her voice light and amused.

"Nathan Kavanagh" he presented himself, regretting twisting in her direction pain shooting through his leg.

"Hn…I am studying fashion with Kate…um.. Miss Kavanagh from WSU Vancouver university."

"Double trouble" she mumbled rubbing her face and he realised that, she also assumed that he and Kate were twins, like many others did.

"I apologise, so much for the nose. For the fall." he stopped, surprised by the nonchalant wave.

"It's fine" she adds "But let me regroup next time, Mr Timber man."

He smoothed a lock of hair behind his ear, taking another sip of the smoothie and leaning back on the bed frame quitely, finding the envelope with questions on top of some of his clothes folded over and laying on side table. He grasps thin paper, reading off it.

"Is your name Eve Anguis?"

"That is correct."

" You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" this felt flat to dictaphone clicked.

"I know my weaknesses and my strengths, Mr Kavanagh and business is all about people.I have always been bad at handling the chit chat and courtship bird dancing around simple matters with simple solutions. All I know is that people need to be in a place that suits them. What I did was to connect the dots and keep my integrity as shareholder, when Google did the buyout. Today we offer analysis of people for our employees, and can guarantee qualifications match to our candidates. Time and age of being in the right place at the right time, is of the past. The rest is just investing and reinvesting with good people working, while they are at work." she answered with automatic prepared answer.

"You became in control of forty thousand people. Seventy three different businesses entered ANGI group, last year alone. Each of them have shown percentage of growth that your company have promised them. In times of inflation on top of that. How can you explain this unbelievable success? "

"Very simple. The Process. To become one of our candidates the business owner or leadership group submits to many psychological tests as well as knowledge and empathy based testing of mundane understanding of their own work and function of their employees. Less than ten percent get approved and carry on. Then one of our anonymous experts, infiltrates the system under role of assistant,lunch lady or junior associate and strengthens or dismisses problems that computer calculations have provided. For many, our zero tolerance policy on for exemple corporate bullying a shock to the system. Quite literally, mindset of "Boys will be boys" is something that is easily changed by structured public confrontation. The fragility of the ego is not something that provides security and longility for any workplace. "

" Is that, not bullying of the bullies? " This wasn't on Kate's list, but he found it hard to believe that simply confronting a bully would change much on a larger scale of things.

"It is not. Our experts are trained in crisis handling and there are several methods to avoid brutal force, pay cuts and swear you wish to discuss this further, I do believe you owe me a cup of tea after all the inconvenience your fall from heavens have provided to my person." His eyes flared momentarily in that she was teasing him and asking him out while being on record about it, unusually direct, this was perhaps to prove a point.

He carried on with the next question. "Your company is investing into a research building on WSU grounds. What will be the main area of research? "

*To my knowledge, several universities are receiving grants. When the manufacturing market is missing key pieces,I chosen to stimulate the scientific process for a couple of interesting materials.*

"You say I."

"I do own my company"

"Don't you have a board to answer to? "

"Not recently." she yawned, hint of annoyance in the voice. He decided to wrap this up; turning the page and catching a question written with red ink, reading it aloud.

"You were adopted. How much do you think that changed the way you.. are?" his voice breaking, horrified.

She tilted her head in his direction, corners of lips twitching. "Excuse me?"

"I..."

He panicked "My apologies. How much do you believe that it have shaped who you are today? I am still a little dizzy." He lied, paraphrasing a bad question.

"Enough, Mr Kavanagh, this is not therapy. Plenty of people are adopted for various reasons. You cannot profile people by their experiences alone. I have a wonderful family; and you met my sister just the other day. I have no interest in extending beyond that, if you were digging for announcements of an engagement."

There was a hint of anger in that tone, once again he wished to apologise properly and couldn't do that at this moment, mumbling out last of the questions in sheer defence.

"Are you gay?"

A pin dropping would be thunder. She stiffened, running hand through her hair in a familiar gesture.

"None of your business. And, no, I am not. "

"I am so sorry." Blood drained from his head.

"I am aware of your sisters lack of boundaries, Nathaniel. Catharine visited our office daily until this meeting was arranged. I dreaded talking with that girl for weeks, I am assuming those are her questions to begin with."

This was the first time she used his name. * I am not sure, myself. Looks like scribbles." he admitted "I was informed of this interview, right before we met in that restaurant. By the way, thank you for the dinner.* he sighed.

Her smile was beautiful. He smiled back, taking another loud slurp of her drink.

The tall brunette from the thai place seemed to not be able to keep still, pacing and speaking loudly on her phone. Fluent in a language he could not understand. She introduced herself as Alice and took long aggressive steps from one side of their private little room to the other, the long braid swishing when she turned. Her coat thrown over the napping redhead. There were indeed two guns strapped up under her shoulders over the crisp white button up shirt. He ogled them earlier and wondered if it would be possible to learn to shoot one. This was the first pair of guns he ever seen outside of television and they had a strange primal attraction, grey metal looked cold to touch. America was a strange place, to meet someone with the gun on streets of Canada was unusual to say the least. This one did not knock, just entering the room, while Mrs Jo, or Josephine Nguyen, chef secretary, did so, sitting on the chair beside him, looking through list with questions he have brought. Her dark eyebrows very thin.

"Well" asian spoke "I doubt very much that your cousin had much to do with this interview Mrs Kavanagh. I supposed as much. The question about manufacturing and Galdo Corporation is a very specific one, that an university student wouldn't be aware of without quite a bit of in depth research. They have attempted to sue us in the past, but couldn't do so from lack of official statement for a discrimination case. Right now, is a bad time, for destractions of this sort." She folded the papers.

"I met her, several times during her visits and twice she mentioned being from that radio show. We normally do not give interviews for local radio. The journals with a business profile drop by now and then, but radio shows are very rare. Perhaps most alarming, is that she chose to not provide any outline for the talk." She placed her hands on her knees" We would have dismissed her, if our contract with WSU was not as critical as it is right now."

She returned the questions back to him. "May I?" She asked, reaching for the dictaphone.

"Of course." he nodded, watching as she listened through their talk. His voice sounded odd. By the end of it, she glanced up at him with a thin smile. "That one, does not like when people apologise. Truth is, when I first started working here, me and an associate messed up and pulled the plug on a room full of important people. The whole floor went black. She…" Jo nodded at the neighbouring bed "…moved the other assistant to a different branch, but kept me, because, I was told, I wished to learn from mistakes, not search for acknowledgement of them. I wouldn't worry for the accident, Nathan. Get better and carry on."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a folder.

"Call the green number, if you get a fever through the week, otherwise your check-up is on Wendsday. We have arranged the details with your health insurance and have payed the bill." She stood up, belly hanging low and straightened up with some effort, she must have been on eight or ninth month at this point then moved the curtain all around his bed, so he figured that was an order to leave. He was mummified in cold pack tape at this point, taking buss back home.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Fifty Shades of Blue**

**Chapter 3.**

The time have flown by, hem of silk fairy dress and sheet of organza laying flat in his fingers. People cheering behind him, the group was tired and standing at the doors ready to go home, mumbling and starting to worry that they would need more silk since the sewing machine kept chewing through expensive hand painted fabric.

"… tacos, you said? " he joked back, finishing off the hem in one lucky smooth go and cutting off the threads, folding the skirt over and reaching it to the transman, Oliver with emerald green eyebrows.

"You cheeky monkey!" he exclaimed loudly, examining the stiches through the light "Cake! Cake! Glory!"

It was hard not to laugh, scandalised intonation,british accent heavy in voice of one of their designers " I bring you tacos, you asshole." Oliver spoke, with rich adoring satisfaction the dress starting to take its elaborate shape. They all took turns, providing an evening meal for the whole group at the end of the week, with Nathans allergies for cow milk, wheat and corn as a bit of a joke how he was the singular reason why either one of them cooked through the semester.

"We are mad!" Liam hissed, stretching out his shoulders and picking up a messenger bag, as the last group task was finished, and they could leave for the day. The door closing behind him with a bang. Everyone else starting to leave also. It was already dark outside, once the bright overhead lights clicked shut, it felt like walking through velvet darkness. Fresh evening air, with a hunt of glue reaching into the room from the area where the flowers dried to be sewed on to the dress tomorrow.

"Come, mate. " Oliver said, always the gentleman, reaching his forearm forward so that he could grasp into it and stand up. His hip was throbbing, but sharpness of pain and swelling was going down. The check up providing him with so much cooling gel and tape that Liam carried it all out in a cardboard box. He wasn't the clumsy one, aside from occasional bruise on the forehead from smacking into the door. Everyone tried to provide some comfort, even assistance in the shower, that he refused happy to just laugh it off. Liam was his wall neighbour in the dormitory, gay and going through a bit of a dry spell since the break up with his long-term boyfriend who cheated with another man and took their dog.

Liam suffered through the dog park visits, playing with the puppy, who just turned mature eight months of age. He returned sad and quiet, closing off in his room and staying there until the next morning. Nathan knew better then to knock, grunting moaning porn heard through the wall. Sometimes he joined the fun, stretching out in bed, stroking his cock and edging to the brink of orgasm. Pulsing in his fist; lost in fantasies of a vikings and pirates, firm but gentle grip on some princess shoulder, pushing her down into the bed. Grasping her golden locks in his fist. Plundering into her depths as she whimpered and leaked in pleasure, struggling against invader but submitting to her own desires. He liked idea of mutual pleasure, entering a hot shower some time later and scrubbing off the salty cum. The next morning, while shaving off the blond fuzz he reminded himself, to start searching for a relationship, not just fuckery. That is how most of his relationships went, he either was stuck in long term love for ages or met strangers that did not last longer then three weeks, asking to be friends and then fading away or reminding good and useful acquaintances. That was probably normal, he thought brushing his hair up into a pony tail and wobbling out to eat something before early class on technique. His gaze falling on his phone. He reached under the heap of notebooks and pulled out the folder with roads of contact numbers, finding the one he was searching for.

E Anguis

He typed down "How about that tea?" Sending it before he regrets it, putting the kettle on and sitting down. He loved wallpaper in his kitchen, a pattern of silver birdcages on dusty grey aquamarine background with beautiful white birds flying away. His phone gave off a thrill, he stared at it in horror, green button lit up.

"I pick you up." He read, trying to ignore glowing happiness expanding in his chest.

Another thrill "Around five." She was still typing. He smiled at the symbol of three dots glowing.

"Wear blue." That dropped like a wave of heat to his toes. He curled his embarrassment and stuffed his feet into a single forgotten slipper laying sadly under the table.

Holy Shit; I gasp, blush creeping up the cheeks, he really sent a selfie. His skin was just flawless, smooth and fair peach, the two upper buttons of the blue shirt open. Instantly wondering how it would look scratched and bitten. There was a delicate collarbone in focus, the pose coquettish. Was he wearing makeup, this could not be real. I fumble to sit up straight trying to remember the real deal, realising that they only met at a distance in the dark and when she was blinder then a mole.

He was smiling.

Enchanting hint of teeth between alluring lips.

The straight nose and blond eyelashes.

It was unfitting for her position to giggle in this manner. Alice glanced up, just to roll her eyes and flip page of her journal, sitting with one leg over the other in the corner of the meeting room where Skype meeting was about to start, a large electronic screen filling out with names and faces of their associates. I take a few deep breaths to calm down,smiling straight forward; his eyes were an extraordinary colour, little devils dancing in speckles of blue.

It was difficult to eat, questions popping up one after another. Wasn't it rather strange to be approached in this manner, by a stranger? He looked at Kate picking at her spaghetti, she coughed out a ball of slime, sacking in her winter jacket. They met for a quick chat, where he explained what have happened and returned the roll with interview in her care. Her mom and dad were separated, and from what he knew, the dad, Jack, was moving up into politics, but the whole family lingered in hope that they wouldn't be involved in all of that.

Would it be strange for a girl to be approached by a stranger and be bought dinner, in that manner? Odd, is what it was. Perhaps he shouldn't have went with the flow. But, in the moment, it felt fun and exciting. He could not decide if it was a red flag or not, trying to imagine her reaction to the photo. If this was going to be a thing, he much more would prefer a bit more foreplay, a chat or two, some flirting. He liked flirting. He once dated this guy, who was a complete jerk in supermarkets and fumed with road rage, they did not carry on because of that, through every single date they had was practically ideal and sex itself was kind of great.

He found the word for it, pursued. Perhaps he was pursued with food and medical care. Or maybe it was just cut-throat decency. But decency alone did not explain the dinner, not even a zillionare would waltz into a restaurant and feed everyone inside. Or tell him what to wear. This was flirting, he thought, finishing his lunch and leaving Kate behind taking a walk through the park to calm his nerves. Another message popped up on his screen, warmth blooming in his chest.

"You are so beautiful." it said.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Fifty Shades of Blue**

**Chapter 4.**

At exactly five, he walked to the university gates as instructed, beside which the black car was standing, strange clanking sounds from inside alarming him. Nobody else was around, so he decided to investigate and try looking into the window, blond ponytail cascading over his shoulder as he did. Windows had smooth mirror like effect,leaving everything inside pitch black. Before he knocked, the door opened in his face, a large bouquet with pink peonies, pushed into his face by the standing up gum chewing bodyguard with sour expression on her face.

"What…Oh… What in the …..Fuck it ****! ….How?..." someone roared. "Where is the bloody hole? "

A foot strapped into a heel appeared moments later, kicking up. That got his attention,he moved closer like a crab, Alice stepping aside revealing the woman stuck inside of a pink dress. Her arms crossed at the elbow, as she moved trying to wiggle into the tube of fabric, glued over her face, loose ribbons flying.

Her head hitting passenger door repeatedly as she reached back and tried to grasp into top of the dress.

He bit into inside of his lip, unable to hide his smile. The trapped whale did a body roll, kicking and howling out threats. He stood up, walking around the vehicle and opening the other door, sliding into the car and gathering up the sweaty angry mess, fishing out a pair of small traveling scissors from his backpack and cutting off knot of ribbons holding her arms trapped. The dress was pure polyester by the feel of it, with a netting on top. The style was hard to judge, but by existence of sportwear sections that acted like spandex and tended to shrink into a death trap when stretched at wrong direction, he guessed this was custom made.

He kind of cringed, by how unfit this was for the wearer, scissors trembling with itch to just cut off the whole thing. The ribbons were a part of corset that was laced through top netting of the dress and were supposed to flow romantically, he assumed, shredding them up. Frowning, when he realised that the corset detail continued all around to the front, creating a web over the bust. With a sigh he shook his head and continued, cutting off the stupid net all together. The redhead looked younger, hair messy and cheeks bright red, as he helped her inside of the dress. He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear leaning down, to finish cutting the fabric, the tight dress instantly looser once the spandex lining lost its grip. Her knees going from pressing into each other in a cartoonish way, to just sitting. He smiled, holding back desire to just pet and comfort this upset idiot, gathering up the scraps and getting out of the car.

He spoke with smoking girl outside and rushed back to school taking long steps, returning perhaps twenty minutes later and dragging the puffing mogul out, in one smooth go hanging straight piece of grey unbleached linen over her head. It was just two sewed together pieces, with a hole for the head, that he rushed through machine, using the ribbon of original dress to fabric glue a make shift collar. That looked better, so much better. Running a brush through her hair, he tied it up and wrapped remaining ribbon over the ponytail, making a bow. Smiling and kissing her cheek, right then and right there, grey eyes growing huge. He chuckled, pushing her back into the car, having way too much fun with all of this.

The baby welcoming party was massive and behind all the balloons nobody noticed that they were an hour late, the parents glowing with delight. Josephin and the three days old child on her arm surrounded by the mystical glow, emphasized by bushes worth of peonies standing in tall vases all around them. The photographer jumping around like exited frog, taking endless number of pictures, showing directly up on the wall tv, with grandparents and friends cheering and picking out which one to put on the postcard that was supposed to be send off around the world. Weddings, graduation parties, births and deaths announced with postcards still. Alice disappeared with a bunch of older men, mumbling something of debths, the group by the lion statue not even pretending to not play poker in the bright daylight.

Two hours later most of fairy godmother speeches with wishes of happiness and luck for the child ended. He noticed something rather strange, how carefully, she sorted through the peas, each food group pushed to separate piles on the plate before she even touched it. His thoughts cut off by how she moved, pressing into his arm, to whisper in his ear, a joke that Maleficent is just about to burst through the doors. He laughed,reminded of lacy white bra and white panties she wore under the dresses, almost the same colour as vanilla cake they were served. All of the guests dressed in blues and pinks. When great grandmother of the young addition to Nguyen family stood up inviting everyone for a well-deserved drink and set of baby related party games two of them creeped out through reception area and down the fire escape, chuckling and feeling like spies.

Her wrist was so thin when he had his fingers around it.

She wobbled on the bright pink heels, stumbling into the wall and leaning on it heavily. He turned around, cobalt neon sign blinking above them. She looked down, inhaling sharply before starting to talk, looking down at their interlaced hands.

"Delusions are beliefs at the edge of hope and plausibility. It is exhausting and pointless." She breathed out. "I like you."

His heart bounced. Her hand was hot and he realised that all he needs to do was to let go. No obligations. No expectations. They were never even supposed to meet. He could not even remember how they started holding hands today, wasn't it supposed to be a joke.

…hope and plausibility …who the hell says that…

"You don't know me" he said.

She just nodded, shutting her eyes tight, squirming back and breathing in again, tears building up under the eyelids and rushing down the cheeks.

"I don't know you" his said, clinching his hand around trembling fingers and pulling her closer, squeezing in a hug. She nodded again, nuzzling into his neck.

"What if I kick puppies?" he mumbled into her hair in disbelief, it was just as fine and soft as when he touched it earlier.

"We get a cat" she sobbed into his chest, hint of laughter there.

He smiled, leaning them on the wall, enjoying the moment." What about the mystery?"

"What?" she looked up at him, confused, the makeup smudged in corners of her eyes.

"When people meet, they charm one another…" he explained softly "…being their best selves so that the other one is interested. And then, after a while, the true them, appear and mystery and charm is gone." She was blinking at him like a child, presented with a puzzle.

"So, it's a game" she sighed.

"You, buying me dinner, was a game move." he chuckled.

"That.."

"Hn?" he tilted his head, curious.

"You are…You are really pretty, alright! Wasn't that what I was supposed to do? Dating is so hard. And I cannot flirt!...Stop laughing!...And then they called… and I had to instruct the builders. I wanted to come over, you know. But it is just impossible, it's like people do not understand that when I am offering them to choose from well-defined tasks, that is when they can choose. Instead, they linger and hang around for no god damn reason. Its viewed as dictatorship to give off orders. But its fucking killing me to wait until they decide on their own. I just don't get, why people wait until they are all standing in a hoard, to take a step forward. Nobody wants to take any responsibility for anything at all nowadays. This indecisive culture is just draining me. And I am sorry. I didn't want to be a creep, I asked Alice to pay for a drink, but they only sold curry. Alright!" she sighed. "Would it be more charming to send you curry in a wine glass?!"

He could not stop laughing, imagining the scene.

"I think, I like you too" he giggled, squeezing her tight.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Fifty Shades of Blue**

**Chapter 5**

It was pouring down when they got out of the building, flustered and thankful for the chill. The beat of music from upstairs vibrating less and less. Eve grabbed his hand harder and waved the other arm around, getting them into a taxi, well inside kicking the shoes off. Her phone vibrating in her hand. "Shh" she smiled, running her thumb over his hand and taking the call.

"I suppose, I can." she answered, holding phone up between the shoulder and the ear."Tomorrow. Late." The woman cut off.

He glanced at her, lifting the eyebrow.

"Very late." She formed words with lips, soundlessly, looking back at him.

He smiled, tuning out the conversation evening scenery turning into a wet blur, that always made him want to pee when looking at it too long. Finally, the car stopped by a town house, complete with little iron gate and small patch of green grass framed by a fluffy bush. Old white rose climbing the grey stone of the building. She was still talking on the phone, paying the driver, giving him her shoes and then jumping down into a puddle, walking straight into the depths of the house leaving him with little choice other then to tag along.

Closing the front door, he looked around; the entrance way was narrow and lead to a staircase, the lay out quite familiar, as many of his friends' houses were built in this style. The sitting room with tall stained windows was lacking art and furniture. He kicked his sneakers off and followed ponds of water into a kitchen, a kettle rumbling, the woman bent over in front of the fridge fishing out cold cuts and bowl full of hardboiled eggs from it, building a feast on the small marble countertop between them. Waving for him to sit and walking off again. He run hand through his hair, opening the fridge and glancing inside, it was tragically empty, a ceramic bowl with a few tomatoes and a clove of garlic standing on the lowest shelf, followed by a jar with mustard, enough raw eggs to feed an army and bowl with what smelled and looked to be a relatively eatable, old rice.

He found the light switch and a pan, putting that on to preheat and guessing direction of the bathroom, peeling off wet shirt from his back and kind of wishing for a hot shower. What met him in the mirror looked more alike a wet rat, then a human. He almost walked back out, when he noticed a bathrobe hanging there, dragging off his pants as well. Hesitating for a moment, calculations of every possible scenario of the evening rushing through his head, fingers sliding in under the cotton underwear and pulling it down too.

It felt much better, to be wrapped in a fluffy grey robe, then in sticky cold cloths, that is for sure. The house was badly habitant; there was not even a bar of soap on the sink, but three tubes with toothpaste placed in various areas.

She was still gone, so he finished crisping up the rice in beaten eggs, seasoned with a bit of salt. Surprised by cabinet full of different types of tea, but existence of three plates in whole of the kitchen, seven forks and one knife. Curiosities endless. There were several bottles with hard liquor under the sink, but no trashcan. Cradling the eggshells, he walked a full circle of life and put them back in the carton with the other eggs. Discovering pure bareness of the freezer on the way and petting a baby succulent in a coffee cup standing on the windowsill.

Crossing his arms, he picked out a green tea and set the table, sitting down with his back against the wall, Ikea sticker still on the side of the table. Chewing on a bit of smoked turkey, surprisingly comfortable in all this madness. "I certainly will" she spoke and put the phone down, frozen in the doors. He imitated directional wave, and she chuckled, sitting down. They had tea and listened to the rain outside.

Leaving the dishes in the sink, he followed her upstairs. There was a ton on documents stocked up on top of each other. He stepped over a law book, getting into the room on the other side of this living space, the bedroom door wide open, a light lit in the closet. This truly was not like any other hook up, that he had before. She walked to the bookshelf sized closet, dragging the dresses off; her bra coming undone, his eyes drawn to her shoulders. With a shudder she dropped it down, shutting the light off and turning in his direction. In darkness he could swear he could see the pink nipple, swallowing hard and dropping his robe, climbing up on the tall bed with a solid metal bed frame.

She was as cold as he; hard nipple under his wandering fingers. He pressed his lips against hers, backing away a moment later. She leaned into his lips eagerly. With curious slowness they explored one another, touching and stroking. She disappeared from his reach in the dark. The bed cracking when the woman moved to sit on his lap, holding his jaw with strong yet gentle hand. Their noses nudging. He licked his lips, heart skipping a beat when she blown out air across them, tilting head back as she pushed her fingers into his hair, scratching in softest manner, thumbs brushing across arches of his ears.

"Mmmn..n.." he purred, parting his lips as the warm tongue pushed in, stroking his teeth softly. "Mmh!." Breaths mingling, the kiss growing wetter, softer and deeper. He placed his hands on her hips, stroking up the naked skin, Eve shivering.

"Ah.n.." she breathed.

He chuckled, teasing and running his hands over the sensitive back, drawing waves with the fingertips and grabbing into the soft ass, the girl squirming at his touch. He pulled her closer, pressing lips to the neck he been staring at half the evening, kissing under that little dark birthmark. She melted into his touch, pressing into him. Then she moved down, grinding on him with a few purposeful rubs.

That got his full attention while nibbling on soft skin of her neck he grasped into the lace fabric of her panties, tugging them down her legs. Sliding his fingers between her thighs, finding the warm folds, touching up and down her entrance, pressing his thumb to the front and moving over the area. Sweet aroma of female arousal reaching his nostrils. She reached down herself and he wished he could see her see in the dark, moving his finger lower down and pressing her legs tighter around his hand. He started to rub the area, getting slippery, the clit swelling up under his touch.

She was soaking wet and trembling, when he gently pressed her down. She hummed into his shoulder, reaching out somewhere. Few heartbeats later, she squirted out something from a bottle. He shivered at the slightly cold touch, lubricated hand wrapping around his dick, stroking up and exploring. Light squeezing movements making him grow harder in her grasp. She wrapped the other hand around the tip of his dick holding it in place, while sliding his foreskin up and down. He pushed into her fist, pleasure crawling under the skin. It was her turn to tease him, leaving nibbly kisses up his neck, her breasts pressing into his chest. With much enthusiasm, opening a condom and rolling thin plastic down his length. Gently guiding him inside, taking her time at the tight entrance, pressing in and lifting until the tension eased, and she was able to stretch around him. He pushed up into the throbbing warmth. Every nerve ending singing, they moved in a union, she wrapped her arms around his neck, giving off shaky, shallow breaths. He reached down, thrusting in deeply and finding her clip, rubbing it with rhythmic stubbornness. She meowed melting in his arms in orgasm minutes later, clamping around his dick. He throbbed, thrusting inside of her faster. Heartbeat pumping in his ears, cummings into the condom with a groan.

Breathlessly they laid on her bed, floating in bliss of afterglow, falling asleep tangled in one another, once she disposed of the condom, wrapping it away with her panties.

* * *

 


	6. Kink education corner.

**Kink education**

**Newsflash**

BDSM is focused on power exchange; not the sexual act involving BDSM tools.

There are people who never had any kind of sex, but had a dom/sub relationship for large portion of their adult life.

And it is not unusual.

**Anti BDSM vs BDSM**

It is not uncommon to hear accusations of how BDSM lifestyle can not be consensual, because pain is involved.

This anger and upsets a lot of people, because terminology like torturous sex, violence against women, porn infused sexual aggression and male predatory romance is used to describe every element involving pain, as horrendously morbid and unnatural interaction.

To this; I say, that even childbirth involves morbidly high levels of pain; and it is still considered a consensual act of procreation, and even act of coupling.

Which leads us to conclusion; that humans are capable to choose a painful experience, if they receive an adequate reward.

If we put our differences aside and view the human; as Homo Sapiens Ape, it is easy to see that many different types of cultures have evolved on this planet and influences the way people understand relationships, love and consent.

We need to keep this in mind; when discussing what is and what is not abuse, which is very relevant for BDSM, when in 2018 there are several countries that prohibit the lifestyle by legal state law.

There are primarily two reasons, that are referred to as basis for such legal acts.

**Religion.**

Several religions have expressed their views on BDSM, as simply, abuse. Today, we can see the scientific proof of global tendency of ongoing separation of state and religion; but there is plenty of political work that needs to be done before state can function independently of religious influences and religion can function separately from the state.

When religion refers to BDSM as abuse; what they most frequently mean, is a sinful act involving elements that are harmful in their eyes; and to view such act repeated is alien to them.

Fundamental human reaction is fearing the danger of unknown.

And BDSM is the boogieman.

I can leave it at that; but I want to address the contrafacts that use definition of human dignity as something that cannot co-exist with "harmful abuse", such as BDSM. This point of view leaves the individual and their choices behind as irrelevant, at grand scale of things, that only their religion can define and redefine, because they have the direct access to divinity and "real truth".

To this; I want to add, that on this planet, this concrete minute, there is roughly 4 200 individual religions; with Internet access and distinct faith and belief system.

4 200!

Just because your religion is more popular, and is capable of shouting that your truth is the true-es; does not make the other 4 199 belief systems any less valid.

And until all of the representatives of every religion; meet and agree; neither one of you can claim the right to define global concepts by yourself, as "TRUE" or "SINFUL".

Because that excludes world views of one heck of a lot of people.

You can have an opinion. But it will not become factual on just hope and prayer.

**Science.**

Most of the religiously independent arguments in the Anti BDSM movement are based on this idea that BDSM is similar to act of self-harm. In their minds, some get hooked on crack and others on alcohol and some get trapped in the loop of their own nervous system, that craves rewards and pain.

Parts of the feminism movement critiques BDSM for having taboo roleplay themes in which there is implication of women needing validation from dominant men. Parts of the antifeminism movement critiques BDSM for having too high demands and standards, that do not allow them to smoothly progress from start to conclusion of a relationship with a someone in the lifestyle.

The science that they are referring to is almost exclusively based on socio-behaviour studies of mice, philosophical theories or studies of human sexuality written over hundred years ago.

Both groups, refuse to believe, that BDSM does not attempt to structure a dystopian world of human misery.

Oh, the science.

Science is not wine, it tends to not age well.

And humans are by far more evolved and aware, then mice are.

There are some conclusions about the world, that early science has provided that is hard to argue against. On the other hand, if there is someone brave enough to discourage existence of gravity, by a leap of a building, I would not stop their scientific process.

Problem with aged socio-behaviour studies, is that they might not apply to changed modern society or would have been complete nonsense if done today. Representation within a group and size of the testing group is probably the only true, statistical elements in sociology and psychology studies.

Without support of statistics, neither one of those areas has the right to be science.

Scientific discovery; is something that can be repeated over and over, with the same or similar result.

At this moment; BDSM have settled with observing wild animals in their element and attempting to wait out the political storm.

To put it politely; representation in the 50Shades; was not helpful.

But it has pissed off enough people, to climb out of their cosy dungeons; and educate others.

This might come as surprise, but BDSM community does not enjoy being redefined and told what and who they are by practically every powerhouse we have.

**BDSM Agenda**

If you do not believe me; let me present, you with the made-up term of "BDSM Agenda" that both religious and scientific AntiBDSMmovements are presenting to the world as BDSM.

The comments I am using were taken without consent of the writer. However; this is for educational non-profit purpose and all personal data have been made anonymous to best of my abilities.

**Anonymous:**

**Nobody I've met ever took "safe, sane and consensual" slogan even remotely seriously. People who know well they had psychological issues looked before they leapt, safety was also a complete non-issue for them, merely declaring they would do what they want, they never expressly forbade anything. As for consent, not only do I know of an instance where a submissive was flogged without their consent, but I also know of a submissive who, when in an open relationship, asked their dominant partners consent before having sex with some they fancied, which violates consent by way of BDSM.**

**Consent does not take away the abuse.**

**Normal sex does not include pain, submission nor slavery.**

**Pain is not enjoyable. Vulgar display of power is perversely enjoyable (sadistic). Not sexy.**

**Pain is always something to avoid to, even animals avoid pain at all costs. It is not healthy to "enjoy" pain. It's para-suicidal.**

**It's not healthy to inflict pain on oneself, it's para-suicidal pattern.**

**People should have sane minds.**

**I bet nazis liked their own agenda and said it was good to be a nationalist. Insider voice at this point doesn't actually count.**

This individual claims BDSM to be abuse; because people involved do not have sane minds, show para-suicidal patterns of that loop of reward/punishment that I mentioned earlier and are perverts for displaying their abnormality. Apparently; alike nazis; pushing agenda of abuse on others; by claiming to follow "Safe, Sane and Consensual" mantra; and then not doing it.

And I want to say; that this individual is wrong.

The introduction of them, to the BDSM have been done strangely.

What worries me is why, they witnessed a flogging, when practically all people on stage who might perform flogging are educated lifestyle professionals, who wouldn't perform such an act / or do so only in context of non-consensual consent; which is a complicated and rather advanced style of BDSM play where roleplay of fighting against restrains or oppression is a discussed and agreed on element of play beforehand.

If they have witnessed flogging in a private setting, with friends that they claim to know well but have low opinion of as people…That is just sad, and should not be done in this manner.

There are people in open relationship everywhere; not just in the BDSM. And I personally, have a hard time to understand what upset this individual; about one partner informing and asking the other partner for their consent when leaving for a date with the third party.

To my knowledge, there are different systems of open relationships. Some share partners, some just inform and ask each other for consent when bringing someone new it, some do not inform anyone of anything. Ultimately, that is their private matter on how they wish to organise their time between people they fancy.

If we analyse this further; they also assume that everyone has or should have their views on what is sexy and vulgar.

On top of that they share their psychological analysis of BDSM enthusiastic friends as impulsive and mentally ill.

Which is very rude.

If you have discovered a hint of masochism in you, further topics you can research are "normalization of psychopathy & BDSM" and antipornography movement.


	7. Chapter

He woke up in the early hours of the morning, from a sharp thrill. Jumping a little, the sound was horrendously annoying, and hidden in the depths of the bed. Fumbling up he resembled a cartoon of a cat, smacking the blanket with his hands, trying to find the mouse. The second trill was worse than the first one, or perhaps the same. A horn roaring, there wasn’t even any melody, goose bumps rushing up his spine. Yawning, he finally found the source, the phone was right there, under the pillow of his lover. He snatched phone away, the third thrill exploding in his fist, the banshee sound making his skin crawl, but the girl remained asleep. Cursing under his breath he pressed the button on the side repeatedly, lowering the volume down to nothing. There were sixteen new messages glowing. Collapsing down on the pillows, too tired to investigate.

Second time he woke up, he felt rested and lazy.  
“You are comfy” he mumbled, snuggling closer, laying directly on top of her, her skin was smooth and lovely a few small birthmarks but not many freckles that he found so far, softness of her chest under his cheek, she was holding around him, grasping into a metal device edge of which rested on his back, tapping sound of typing stopping a few moments later. He smiled, cold lips pressing to his forehead, kissing.  
“Mm..Morning” she spoke. “Do you need a place to stay?”   
“What?” his eyes flew open.  
The woman shuddered “Education is not free, books and classes, utilities, rent. Materials for your projects. You never mentioned working, if you are couch surfing and eating ramen noodles, I rather be told that now.”  
*Nothing wrong with noodles, and I have a room. * he replied waking up.  
“Okay” she said, just dropping the topic and starting to type again.  
“You ask everyone?” he grumbled, sitting up. She closed the laptop and looked back at him.  
“Why would I?” she blinked.  
He run hand through the messy blond hair. “I don’t know!”  
“I ask you, because I rather have you living here than in a dump with bedbugs and luxury of central heating.” She snapped, rather sharply, that he did not like one bit. Hating when people act pretentiously, information of what she said crossing his mind after he processed her tone.  
“W..What?!” he hissed at her, surprising himself. Meeting the grey eyes straight on. She leaned back, reaching down under her glasses to rub bridge of her nose. Exhaling and looking back at him. “Move in, here. Cook for me.” She said straight out, tone of the voice flat, constitution then request or a suggestion.  
He felt his face squirm into a mime, lips stretching, frowning. The room was almost ice cold, and windy, somewhere there was a window left open. He shivered grieving the warmth and comfort. “…No?!” He answered, highlighting the sarcasm. “Thank you for your concern, but I am fine. Thank you. Do not need your charity.” He wondered where his cloths are, and in what part of the city there were at the moment, suddenly hit with feelings of loss, like something he hoped for got taken away from him. In a flash of frustration, he dropped down on the bed beside her, turning away and wrapping up like a python around the thick blanket that they slept under.  
She shifted behind him.Just when he was ready to get out of there, wrapping her arms around him. Somehow, he wasn’t expecting that. She pulled him closer with a purring sigh, resting her chin on top of his head, throwing one of her legs over him. Not saying a word.  
“Ghn!” He explained everything, her skin felt almost burning hot against the cold back, warming up in the hug.She tucked the blanket around them, sliding one of the hands into his hair and starting to scratch him.  
Pleasure ticklish “Mn….n.” he disagreed, getting more scratches, fingers massaging his scalp with circular movement. He closed his eyes, relaxing,leaning into her hand as she continues to touch and stroke and giving light tugs to roots of his hair.  
“This” he tried, shivering “That….is unreasonable..nnmh ” he sighed, moving his head forward as she pushed her hand up into his hair from the nape of his neck.   
“Is it?” she spoke behind him calmly.  
“Get a maid” he muttered.  
“A stranger?” she said “No, can do. At least, you I trust!” And added nothing else, massaging his head and letting go of him a few minutes later, pulling away from him and folding over edge of the bed, bringing his bathrobe closer to him. He accepted it, kneading the soft grey fabric, thinking things through.  
“This is not how things are done.” He started, clearing his throat.  
“I am aware” she spoke back softly, running hand over his forehead and leaving a kiss on top of this head, this would feel intrusive to say the least, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Their odd interactions progressing into this.  
“At least…” he mumbled.  
“Yes?” She asked, attentively, which made him loose the track of the thought.  
He couldn’t suppress the yawn” I can consider another date. But I am not going to clean and dust, like a maid.”  
“I never said anything about being my maid.” She tilted her head, inspecting him.  
“What do you want then?” He gaped “You just said!”  
“I said, I want you to live with me, if you have nowhere else to live. That’s all.Its really not that complicated.”  
“Please, enlighten me.” His voice drier then Sahara Desert.

 

“ I cannot be your high school sweetheart, Nathan. How many times, do you think, I witnessed those clueless young ladies and puffed up young men, whom managed to grasp the interest and then like fucking Cinderella, build this castle of expectations and romance just to have their heart broken by the daily routine of things. They get lost in expectations and agendas, blooming out into perfectly polite lionesses of the parties or disappear into their unhappiness decorated with diamantes from top to toe. Simply because they were not told that things can not match experiences of their past.  
Almost everyone I work with, keep girlfriends on the side. Because it’s easier to set boundaries with a professional prostitute, then explain things to a regular person, who does not care about phrasing or discretion. I despise that, the cycle of romance predesigned to end before they meet the girl. To go to the next one. Enjoying the process, acting out on fantasies that they create to fool the seasonal lover. To return to their unhappy perfect wives whom care of their perfect unhappy children.  
I am telling you, that I wish to date you with prospect if being your partner, right now, from the start. Otherwise, mistakes I make my company will pay for. I cannot afford stupidity and loneliness of being lovesick. Right now, I am recommended to treat you like an animal, considering your traits and character. It is a harsh reality, and I am sorry that I must do this.  
I do not wish for you to be perfect, not at all, to me; you will be you regardless. The guy with no sense of time, but quite remarkable memory for details; the helpful one and calm one, in middle of the storm. But in the eyes of others we will meet you might have to be on your toes.  
As much as you make my heart flutter, my schedule is full for years ahead. I know it is not fair to call and tell you where and when to be, to meet me. That damages relationships so badly. I cannot expect you to remain available until forever either, we need to build this, with consideration that I might not have time for you.   
If you want me, that is.  
So, live with me. Sleep with me. Prepare me dinner and when you finish school, we will travel where you wish to go.I know how it goes otherwise, attempting to date and having to reschedule over and over, until you give up on me, or I give up on you. Or we settle for exchange of sex for money, like way too many others do. ”  
“Don’t be absurd” he replied. “We met what is it, two weeks ago?”  
*That is perhaps true, but with my circumstances, I do not have the luxury of slowly seducing you in dimly lit libraries, to bringing you to moonlight dates or grabbing coffees on the street.I wish I did. With how things are, I want to give time and effort, a serious relationship deserves. I can adjust for now, but sooner or later, the problems will arise.”  
He sighed, sitting up and crossing his legs. Facing her, wrapping up in blanket suddenly forced to decide on his whole life.“How much is your net worth, exactly?” he frowned.  
She sat up, copying his pose; naked, serious. “Roughly? A hundred million. It started with just two, from Google and couple years of radical investments. Around forty of them is in this company alone. I also own some property that I am renting out in Europe. I see no need to buy estates and yachts just to check a box off, on what I am supposed to desire in my life. I had a meeting on one of those ships with glass floors, directly showing the abyss of ocean beneath us, that was quite unsettling to say the truth. If you want to travel on a boat, we can just rent one.”   
“I see” he stated, his tone formal and distant, thinking. Blinking, at how mortified she suddenly looked, wrapping arms around her shoulders in protecting gesture. Red hair falling over her eyes.  
“I can try.” he spoke, reaching out to touch her.


End file.
